"Good morning, Winny," he said, holding out his hand.
"Good morrow kindly, Tom," she replied, wishing to be civil, and taking it. She knew she was "in for it," as she expressed it to herself; but encouraged "by the hope within her springing," and softened by the anticipation of its fulfilment, she was determined to be kind but firm.
"Have you been walking far, Winny? Upon my life, it seems to agree with you. It has improved your beauty, Winny, if that was possible."
"Tom, don't flatter me; you're always paying me compliments, and I often told you that I did not like it. Beside, you did not let me answer your question until you begin at your old work. I walked about a mile of the road with Kate Mulvey."
"Kate Mulvey is a complete nice girl. You are not tired, Winny, are you?"
"Ah, then, what would tire me? is it a mile of a walk, and the road under my feet? I could walk to Boher-na-Milthiogue and back this minute."
By this time they had come to the end of the lane turning up to Rathcash House.
"I'm glad to find you are not tired, Winny. You may as well come on toward the cross; I have something to say to you."
"And welcome, Tom; what is it?"
Winny felt that the thing was coming, and she wished to appear as careless and unconscious as possible. When she recollected all Kate Mulvey had said to her, she was just in the humor to have it over. Upon reflection, too, she was not sorry that it should so happen before the grand passage between her and her father upon the same subject. She could the more easily dispose of the case with him, having already disposed of it with Tom himself. She therefore went on, past the end of her own lane; and Tom, taking this for an unequivocal token in his favor, was beginning to get really fond of her—at least he thought so.